“I just came from her place.”
I looked up, surprised he’d gone to see Maria and Iguana John without me. “And?”
“She confessed she was actually speaking with one Madeline L’Orange.”
I smirked. Despite her nosiness and pushiness, I’d liked the reporter the couple times I’d run into her. She had a nose for the truth, and I admired her relentless attitude. “So… we’re heading up to The Conch headquarters?”
Peter nodded. “There’s something else.”
We stepped around a steaming sewer grate as a steady mist of rain chilled my face.
“Ralph Litt has continued, under hours of questioning, to answer truthfully that he didn’t kill his wife.” Peter shook his head, brows pinched together. “He’s a slimy scumbag, but I don’t think he killed his wife.” He shot me a grim look. “We have the wrong man.”
I nodded and resisted the strong, strong urge to tell him “I told you so.” Then again, I hadn’t been right about the affair between Ralph and Avery Ann, so I couldn’t exactly brag, either.
We plodded uphill in silence, rain trickling down the stone gutters past us, the cobblestones growing more even as we climbed. I balled my freezing hands in my pockets and wished again for that coffee Peter used to bring to warm them up. Guess we really weren’t friends anymore—I’d just have to accept that.
Daisy glanced back at us, and her ears flattened. She slowed her pace and sidled up on my other side. With the streets empty, I woofed at her.
What’s up, Days?
She blinked her huge dark eyes at me, then looked around me at Peter and whimpered. Are you going to translate for us again?
My stomach twisted, and I pressed my lips tight together before whining back. Sorry, Days, but I don’t think Peter’s in the mood to talk to me like that.
But… Her ears swiveled toward Peter. I’m worried about him. I want to ask him what’s wrong. I keep dropping my ball in his lap, but he won’t throw it for me. Her eyes grew wide. He won’t even play with the stuffed dolphin—and that’s his favorite.
I bit back a grin and woofed. Well, I think I can help you out with the why, at least. I told him I was a shifter, and I think he’s still pretty upset with me over that.
The dog’s ears tucked back. But… you told him the truth.
I nodded and snuck a glance at Peter, who kept his eyes straight ahead. I could tell he was listening but pretending not to. I let out a quiet huff. Sometimes, the truth hurts.
Daisy didn’t say another word, but with her furry brow pinched and ears back, she seemed to ponder this as we headed toward the island’s newspaper headquarters.
26
MADELINE L’ORANGE
We didn’t have far to go, as the Conch headquarters sat on one of the lower tiers of Bijou Mer in a dilapidated warehouse made of crumbling bricks and cloudy windows. The inside wasn’t any fancier and smelled faintly of mildew.
We climbed a dark stairwell past the magical machinery on the ground floor that actually made the papers to the offices on the second story. A receptionist pointed Madeline’s desk out to us, then returned immediately to his station, littered with papers and ringing bells sounding various alerts.
Peter, Daisy, and I threaded through a maze of brown filing cabinets and scratched metal desks. I ducked as a stack of papers zoomed overhead. To my right, an enchanted paper cutter manically chopped flyers and dozens of spelled typewriters clacked away.
I curled my lip—how did anyone think in here? Then again, someone could probably say the same thing about the flashing neon lights that shone through the front window of my apartment and the thumping bass beat from the bar below me. You just got used to it.
The place buzzed with energy as people bustled around, stacks of scrolls piled high in their arms or one finger pressed to the magical communication devices in their ears, shouting to be heard by the person on the other end.
Madeline brightened as she caught sight of us, then held up a finger. “No, Harold. I told you, this one’s big. I won’t take less than the front page.” She leaned one hip against a desk and crossed her arms as she listened to the buzzing voice coming from her earpiece. “Well, you better get back to me soon. This piece is breaking fast.”
She popped the little gumball device out of her ear and tucked it into the pocket of her pencil skirt. “Officers.” She nodded at Peter, then ruffled Daisy’s head. The dog recoiled but not before Madeline got some pets in. She gave me a gentle elbow. “Hey, honey. Always good to see a fellow snoop again. What brings you by?”
She turned to the desk in front of us and arranged a few typed sheets of paper.
“We’re investigating Pearl Litt’s death.”
Madeline sucked in a breath and gave a little shimmy of her shoulders. “Ooh, juicy isn’t it?” She fanned her hands apart. “This exposé I’m writing about Potent Potions is going to be one of the top stories of my career.” She put a fist to her hip. “And you may not have heard, but I did earn a few prestigious awards for my work on the whole Carclaustra Prison scandal.”
I gave her a flat look. “Yeah, you may have mentioned it.”
She chuckled.
Peter pointed at the desk. “Is this the piece you’re writing?”
She nodded, her long black hair tied back in a bun. “I’m still negotiating the details, but once I get my way, this is going to be front page news—hopefully tomorrow night.”
Peter cleared his throat. “We understand you spoke with Maria Wu? Can you confirm you were with her the night Pearl Litt was murdered?”
“Oh, you put that together, did you?” She gave an appreciative nod. “Nice work. Yep,
